Page 21 of House of Salt and Sorrows
Mrs. Drexel beamed with pleasure, keenly aware of how much we all wanted to know. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly say. But she’s a dear customer. A trulylovelycreature. Her only request was that I make her gown the mostpassionatepink I could find. Something to truly strike the heart of any man, mortal or…otherwise.”
“Arina!” Camille gasped. “You design dresses for the goddess of beauty?” She looked around the tiny shop as if expecting Arina to pop out from behind an embroidered screen and surprise us all.
“Truly?” Morella said, her mouth falling open.
The twist of Mrs. Drexel’s lips gave everything away, but she raised her shoulders in a dramatic shrug. “I’m not allowed to say.” She threw in a wink for good measure. “But that’s all to say that this gown is perfectly in style. Modest even, compared to some.” She tilted her head toward the triplets’ gowns, and I hid a smirk.
“I think you look perfect,” Camille said. “Just like Mama.”
“I remember her,” Mrs. Drexel said as she knelt down to pin my skirt to the proper length. “Such a kind soul. She came here once for something to wear to one of your father’s ship christenings.”
“It was red, wasn’t it? With a wide sash over the shoulder?” Camille pantomimed the dress. “I came with her for the final fitting! She loved that gown.”
“You were the little girl? Oh, how time passes! I’d wager your next visit here will be for a bridal dress.”
Camille flushed. “I certainly hope you’re right!”
“Do you have a beau?” Mrs. Drexel asked around a mouthful of pins.
“Not exactly. There is someone I’m hoping to meet at the ball, though.”
“She’s been practicing her Foresian for weeks!” Morella confided with a chuckle.
Mrs. Drexel smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be impressed. Now, I will put the final touches on these two tonight and can bring them to Highmoor tomorrow.”
“That would be most kind, thank you,” Morella said. “It seems our to-do list keeps growing longer and longer. Only one day leftnow.”
Crossing the street, I spotted him.
Eulalie’s Edgar.
He was down the sidewalk from us, chatting with a trio of men, and dressed head to toe in black. Our eyes met, and I nodded. His face turned pale, and he sputtered something to his companions before rushing to leave.
“Mr. Morris!” I called out.
He froze in his tracks, his shoulders dipped with resignation—caught and unable to escape.
“Mr. Morris?” I repeated.
He turned, eyes wild with panic. They swept over me, then fell to the hem of my cloak.
“Miss Thaumas, good day. Forgive me, I hadn’t expected you to look so…fresh.”
His judgment struck me as sharp as a slap. I’d grown accustomed to the frenzied glee now infusing Highmoor. Sunlight poured in through open windows and fresh-cut flowers were everywhere. New dresses arrived daily and our armoires were riots of colors.
All traces of mourning were gone. The black shrouds from every mirror and glass plate had been gathered into a big pile on the north lawn. Bombazine wreaths and ribbons, crepe hangings, and all of our dark clothes had been set ablaze, fueling a bonfire that burned three nights long.
I glanced down at my blue gabardine uneasily, rubbing my thumb over the pads of my fingers. “There have been several…changes at Highmoor.”
He took in the colorful clothes, my uncovered face. “I’ve heard. I’m so sorry, I must be going, I—”
“How…how have you been?” I asked, unable to stop the words from tumbling from my mouth. His dark, appraising eyes turned me into a stammering mess. “We’ve not seen you since…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence and grabbed on to the first topic that came to mind. “We’ve heard it’s been a good fall. For fishing! Out on…well, the water, of course. A good fall for fishing.”
Edgar blinked once, confusion written across his face. “I don’t fish, actually. I’m an apprentice at the clockmaker’s shop.”
My cheeks burned. “Oh, that’s right. Eulalie told us that….”
“How is Mr. Averson these days?” Camille swept in, skillfully saving me.
